


Happy Thoughts

by Sp00py



Series: A Study in Snuffering [9]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Biting, Death Fetish, Disjointed Narration, Insanity, Mentions of Death, Obsession, Oral Sex, Other, Panic, Self-Harm, Sensory Deprivation, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py
Summary: Some days, you think too much. Those are usually Bad Days.





	Happy Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Slice of a Happy Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15258993) by [Doceo_Percepto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto). 



You love Bendy.

It took some time, sure, but now you know to appreciate him, you know how much you need him. He takes care of you when your papa has gotten bored, feeds you and gives you water. He also gives you pain, which you never knew was something you needed until you met him and the Joxter.

You were such a stupid, stupid Snufkin before. It’s good that Bendy owns you, because he knows how to take care of the things he owns, even when they don’t know how to take care of themselves. He knows your limits better than you (and, oddly, they’re so far past where you’d thought they’d be, but this is why you need him), and when he’s gone you’re beside yourself with worry. Not for him, of course, as Bendy can more than take care of himself, but for yourself. It’s a sort of dread, that he doesn’t want you anymore, that you didn’t do enough, that you displeased him in some way. You cry and scratch your arms and debase yourself because Bendy likes that, and maybe he’ll come back faster if you’re doing what he likes.

You love Bendy, and the thought of him abandoning you sounds worse than death.

When he does come back, you throw yourself at his small form, blood on your thighs and on your arms, and his tongue slithers out to lap it up even as he laughs at you and calls you an idiot for hurting yourself and crying so much.

“Yes, Bendy,” you agree as you trace your thin fingers from his horns down his back and knead. He doesn’t feel alive, not like you or your papa, but he feels electric. He’s cold, slick, and your fingers dip in and come away with strings of ink. It causes a tingly sort of sensation to feel something that doesn’t exist anywhere else in the world. Bendy gnaws lightly on your forearm once it comes too close to his mouth, and you jolt like you’d been shocked. Pain laces up your arm. You give a small, breathless sort of sigh.

You deserve that pain, because you got too close. You know how he is. You encourage it. It makes you feel wanted, makes you feel needed. You love Bendy; you want him to want you. And he does.

He bites up your arm, chews on your throat like he’d like nothing more than to rip it out. He doesn’t though. He loves you back. You know this without him having to say it. If he didn’t love you, he’d kill you.

You want him to kill you. Not to escape or avoid the pain, though it does hurt an awful lot, more than you think you can stand (but then you endure and endure, and it passes so you were wrong about that. Wrong about so much). No, you want him to kill you so that you can be closer to him than is possible with life. You’re jealous of those Snufkins crumpled like paper, bones white and pretty all drenched in blood, the ones he rips the guts out of and crawls inside of. The ones who reach out to you for help, and all you do is whisper how lucky they are, how lucky as his dick slices through their belly in a spurt of blood, spikes goring the luckiest Snufkin you ever knew.

You don’t understand why they all cry. They beg and scream and don’t seem to realize how lucky they are. 

But they’re not here now, and you are, and Bendy is in your arms. You sometimes forget when things are happening, and it felt so real. He’s worked his way up to your ear, the one where you can’t hear anything out of. His tongue is pushing in again. You moan a little at the slithery, slimy feel, and hug him close. It hurts, it hurts in a weird way, but it’s your special pain that only he can give you, so you love it and cherish it.

You think he is killing you. He fucks you as a monster, and you know he likes to hear your squeaks of pain and giggly whimpers because it hurts, too. So deeply inside your belly, you half suspect he’s grown spikes like blossoms while buried in you, and if he fucks you hard enough (and he does like to fuck you hard) he’ll start pulling out hunks of meat and founts of blood. His paw is big and heavy on your chest, holding it down as his tongue traces along your face, licks across your eyeball, dips into your mouth to choke you.

He’s so big and you’re so small and one day, one day he’ll not care it’s you. He’ll fuck you right through. You bleed by the time he’s finished, and his mouth replaces his dick, his little body fits nicely between your legs, he makes you feel good after making you feel so awful.

Bendy makes fun of you when you tell him you love him, voice confused, almost frantic. You worry he doesn’t believe you, doesn’t understand. It makes your heart hurt and your head hurt, but you have to trust that he does understand. That he knows how much you need him.

You want him to kill you so you can be close to him. But Bendy seems content to gnaw and be petted, today. He’s not tearing you apart. He’s little. You'd thought -- You get like that when he’s been away for a while. Get confused, get desperate. Get needy. You don’t know if you can be addicted to a person, but think it happened. In some part of you, you know it’s shameful for a Snufkin to be like this, but you can’t care. You’ve not thought about that part of you in a long, long time. It's clawing, though, so much is clawing in your mind today.

You want something… something, you’re not sure what but it’s something only Bendy can give you. You hug him tight and start to cry, great breathless sobs that wrack your body. He feels like cold mud in your arms, shifting and tingly, all ink and intention and whatever magics hold him together. Had he fucked you today, or not or left or found another Snufkin -- you have trouble remembering anymore what happened now, what happened before, what happened only in your head, but you ache in your chest like all of that happened all at once. Maybe it did, maybe that’s why you’re so overwhelmed, but you don’t know. You don’t know anything.

Bendy’s trying to comfort you. You’re inconsolable. Bendy probably knows why, if you could spit out any words around your heaving gasps. He could help. Help. You don’t like being like this. You feel like you’re falling apart, like your need for Bendy is growing too big for your heart, for your rib cage. It’s going to kill you.

“Please, Bendy,” you manage. “Please, please —“

“Hey, hey, shush,” Bendy says awkwardly, patting your face with his inky white paws.

“Need, need you. I don’t — I — I —" you give up and cry more, eyes shut tight against the world, face a scrunched up mess, body quivering and numb at the ends.

Suddenly, everything’s quiet, everything’s dark. Ink presses comfortingly against your entire body. Oh. Oh.

You can’t breathe at first, but you weren’t really breathing well anyway, and the panic subsides. Bendy’s here, if not in you, around you. It’s hard to be afraid when he’s holding you so close.

You don’t try to speak anymore. Then, you don’t even think. Other Snufkins, abandonment, fucking, every fear and jealousy is dissolved in the ink. You hadn’t realized how loud your thoughts had been until they're smothered. This is why you shouldn’t think, you should just exist. How nice just existing feels.

You drift in this void, knowing this is just for you. You love when he holds you so close, and you’re afraid, too. For some reason you think you might die like this, the nip of a memory of someone dying, of pain in your ear like it hadn't always been deaf. It’s evanescent and slips away into the darkness. Memories don’t mean anything here, time doesn’t matter. Time’s been confusing you anyway. Days and nights bleed all over each other like so many dying Snufkins, until they’re just a single undifferentiated mass.

No time, no senses, no thoughts. Just Bendy. BendyBendyBendy --

All too soon, Bendy’s pulling away, shrinking back into his smaller self. You don’t whine at the loss, because he’s still here, heavy and comfortable in your lap. The light is bright, though, and you squeeze your eyes tight. The world is loud, too, with the chirping of birds, the rustle of wind.

Eventually, you open your eyes, dark and bright as a Joxter's, again.

"I'm sorry,” you mumble, mind still back in the blackness of the ink.

Bendy smiles up at you as you wipe away tears prickling from the light. “Better?” he asks. You nod. He beams even brighter. “And Jox says I’m bad at takin’ care of ya.”

“You take good care of me.”

“I know.”

“Thank you, Bendy.”

You love Bendy. It’s a scary sort of love, addictive and panic-stricken, but you have no other point in life than to be his. You shouldn't think anymore, because this is fine. It’s how things should be.


End file.
